


I Wrote A Letter to Gatsby

by ALittleBitOfAngstGoesALongWay (Pheasant)



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald
Genre: Canonical Character Death, If You Squint - Freeform, Letters, M/M, Post-Story, natsby - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 23:24:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12143373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pheasant/pseuds/ALittleBitOfAngstGoesALongWay
Summary: Jay Gatsby is very simply the man who had the wealth and fame that James Gatz craved. I prefer neither, for the genuine smile I craved inhabited both names for a time. I prefer neither, for both would have invited me to a party if only for politeness’ sake. I prefer neither, for you have never done me the insult of attempting to one piece of me over another no matter what I have told you or what I have done. Despite anything you may have done, you will forever be one of the few genuine people I know.





	I Wrote A Letter to Gatsby

Dear Gatsby,

It seems odd, now, to refer to you in such a formal way. Your father and I have grown familiar over the year you have been gone, and I have come to know you simply as “Jimmy” from his lips. Even then, it seems that your name has not lost the splendor it had when I first met you at that party that seems to be years ago. Your death shaved a few years of my life, friend, and added some to my past. It seems only yesterday that your blood mingled with the water of your swimming pool due to a bullet that pierced your heart, yet I know that it has been far longer than that.

Your father, Henry, has told me so much about you in this past year. He and I have talked quite often after your funeral. I’m not sure if you would be pleased or disappointed by this revelation, as you had tried so hard to leave your past behind. I wonder if you would think that I preferred James Gatz over Jay Gatsby, after all that Henry has told me of you. However, I don’t believe that I could prefer either, as both are completely and uniquely you.

James Gatz is the boy who found a dog and brought her home, brushing her fur and pampering her even in the frail moments that brought her closer and closer to death. He is the grinning child in the pictures your father occasionally mails to me, hope and pure goals covering him like a second coat. He is the boy who told his father that he would one day become a name that everyone would know and remember. He was the one who knew what he wanted and made a plan to become the man that had those things. 

Jay Gatsby is very simply the man who had the wealth and fame that James Gatz craved. I prefer neither, for the genuine smile I craved inhabited both names for a time. I prefer neither, for both would have invited me to a party if only for politeness’ sake. I prefer neither, for you have never done me the insult of attempting to one piece of me over another no matter what I have told you or what I have done. Despite anything you may have done, you will forever be one of the few genuine people I know.

Daisy may have been the recipient of your love, but I will be the first to say she did not deserve it. She had not even the decency to attend your funeral, even after anything. I had not expected to feel so angry at how few people attended your funeral, yet I am not surprised all the same. It seemed, once, that it was you and me against the world as I tried so hard to defend you against those who refused to honor such a radiant man in death.

In all honesty, I do not know why I have written this letter at all. It is not as if you would suddenly appear from the dead in order to respond to me. I wonder if you would even respond, if you could. Or would Nick Carraway be so inconsequential in your fantasy of the world and of Daisy that you would be completely unaware of the identity of the sender?

I’m afraid this nonsensical letter must come to a close. I feel the need to write of you, so that not only I know the Gatsby I have seen. It may be a fruitless endeavor, but it is one I have chosen to take on for myself. I would say it was for you as well, but I found it is fruitless to lie to myself any longer. I am sorry, Jay Gatsby and James Gatz, for being one of the few people left to honor you yet I use your memory to soothe my own soul.

 

-Nick Carraway

**Author's Note:**

> I should have been writing Jijivisha, but Instead I posted this....   
> Yay?


End file.
